Strays: A Romantic Fantasy Adventure

It didn’t matter how hard Sakura pushed her hands to her ears, trying with all her might to block everything out, the whispers still slipped their way through her fingers and leeched into her senses.

We never had these problems before she was born.

The rains stopped at her birth.

Izumi caught the dream fever and died after playing with Keiko’s child.

Junko died…

Kiyoshi died…

Both of her parents are dead.

She’ll kill us all.

That child is cursed…

That child is cursed!

The child dropped her hands into her lap, giving up on trying to hide from the voices that surrounded the same fire that she did. She sat in a daze and watched as her father’s body, wrapped in white cloth, was thrown into the massive fire by two men, the sparks and flames erupting around him, consuming all that he was.

It was exactly the same as when they had thrown her mother’s body to the blaze. It had eaten her, and left nothing but ash behind.

Papa had promised her that Mama would be alright. That she was strong. That she would never leave them.

But her body never stopped shaking.

And when it did, she was gone.

Papa had promised her that they would be alright. That he was strong. That he would never leave her.

But then his body started shaking.

And when it stopped, he was gone.

And Sakura was alone.

Now, there would be no more gentle whispers to ward against the cruel ones.

No one to hold her.

No one to love her.

The flames climbed higher into the sky as they threw in a much smaller body on top of her father’s.

It belonged to Sora.

The older boy had rubbed the younger girl’s back and said he was sorry that her mother had died. Told her that everything would be okay.

And now he was dead.

And it was all her fault.

Because she was cursed.

She stood up, her legs shaky, her body numb.

They threw another.

So tiny.

Sakura didn’t know if they had even given the baby a name.

The baby’s mother had allowed the girl to touch her round belly just days before as she gave her a bite of what little bit of potato she had. It had been warm, and soft, and melted in her mouth. How grateful she had been for the taste.

How the mother must regret that decision now.

She put one foot in front of the other and followed the path back into the village.

Back to a home with no one waiting for her.

Where she would be alone.

Forever.

Her stomach rumbled and churned, reminding her how hungry she was. Mama and Papa had done their best, given her more than they took, always making sure she was first to eat. But that tight clenching never left her stomach. She never stopped getting smaller. Her bones showed more and more.

And now Mama and Papa were gone.

What was she going to do?

Akiko had brought her bread earlier that day, but it was all she could do before having to rush off to another house to take care of another person.

Akiko was always taking care of everyone.

How would Akiko be able to take care of her?

She veered away from her home, making her way to the pond that was now no more than a filthy puddle. Sakura stopped, reaching out to touch the cherry tree that she had seen bloom only once.

The tree her parents had become mates under.

The tree that had bloomed the day of her birth.

The tree that she was named after.

The tree that was once so beautiful.

Now it was dead.

Nothing.

Just as she was.

“Sakura.”

The girl turned to face the older silver haired boy who walked up to her but carefully kept his distance. “Hi Yuki.”

“I’m sorry about your father.” He looked at her with pity. Like he always did.

She nodded. What could she even say?

“My grandmother said that they’re looking for someone to take care of you.”

More pity.

“No one wants to take care of me,” she told him.

She wasn’t blind.

She wasn’t deaf.

And she was no fool.

He shook his head. “Someone will. I promise.”

Lies.

Promises mean nothing.

And arguing would get her nowhere.

“Okay,” her voice quiet, resigned.

“It’s late. You should go home.”

Alone.

“Okay. I will.” But she didn’t want to. To be in the place that once had everything she held dear, now empty. Why would she ever want to go back to that?

He smiled; a small, pathetic curve.

For a small, pathetic girl.

“I’ll come over tomorrow and bring you something to eat.”

No, he wouldn’t.

Yuki always said things that he’d never do.

Yuki always made promises.

Promises to come see her.

Promises to play.

Promises of food.

Promises that things would be okay.

But he broke every one of them.

And then made more.

Yuki was his parent’s first-born son of many. He was going to be alpha. He was going to take the position from his father. Just like his father took it from his.

Yuki had time to make promises.

But he didn’t have time to keep them.

She was going to starve.

She was going to die.

Just like Mama and Papa.

And everyone would be better for it.

“Okay.” She nodded.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Yuki may smile and say the words he thinks he’s supposed to, but his eyes always betrayed his true thoughts and feelings.

Disapproval.

Suspicion.

Fear.

She wanted nothing from him. “It’s okay. I can walk myself.”

“I gotta get back. But I’ll see you tomorrow.” Those gold eyes filled with relief as the silver haired boy turned and started jogging back to his house.

He wouldn’t see her tomorrow.

Because she wouldn’t be here.

She went to the path.

No one noticed.

She followed it out of the den.

No one cared.

She began to run, a slow, weak stumble forward.

No one stopped her.

She would run. And no one would catch her.

No one would even try.

Her feet would carry her through villages and towns and cities. Take her down paths and lift her onto wagons. Sometimes, she could successfully hide from the drivers, sometimes finding food among the luggage that she would scarf down before anyone could take it from her. Other times, she would be found, the wagon’s owner yelling and chasing her away. Other times, she would find no food, and her stomach would remind her of how empty it was.

Eyes would follow her as she made her way out in the open. No one would reach out their hand, only their whispers.

A fox child.

Starving.

Dream fever.

Filthy.

Don’t touch her.

There’s something wrong with that child.

Her body hurt.

Her feet blistered and bled.

So tired.

But she moved forward, further and further from the den and closer and closer to what she had tried to avoid.

Death.

Maybe it would be better.

The pain in her stomach.

The pain in her heart.

For all of it to just…

Go away.

Another man to chase her out of another wagon.

Another village to run through.

More trees to hide in.

To rest.

Maybe her last.

Hopefully.

But the voice.

It called to her.

She watched the boy searching.

Looking.

For her.

Setting something on the ground.

“I’m gonna leave this here. It’s an apple. You can have it. I have more food if you want but you have to ask for it, okay.”

It was an option.

The girl had been given a choice.

By a boy whose name she did not know, and who didn’t know hers as well.

She went to where he had been, finding the apple on the ground.

An offering.

Her teeth sunk past its shiny skin and into juicy flesh as she watched his back, his ebony curls, walk away.

The taste so sweet on her tongue.

She followed, not wanting him to go, too scared to ask him to stay. She looked down at the ground, swallowed her nerves, and reached out, his shirt in her hand.

The fear grew in her barren stomach, working its way to her chest.

She should run from him.

Before he could run from her.

But he knelt before her and gazed up.

Eyes so blue.

So beautiful.

His whispers so gentle, so kind.

“Are you still hungry? This is a chocolate. It’s really good.”

With steady fingers, he pushed the sweet, little ball past her parched lips and onto her tongue.

It was good.

So good.

But not nearly as good as him.

“You look tired.”

She was.

“You can rest at my house.”

A home she could go to with someone where she wouldn’t be alone.

The boy didn’t so much as flinch away or show the slightest hint of concern as she pressed herself to his back and he carried her through the woods. There was no disgust in his eyes while he carefully washed the filth from her sore and hurting body. His smile was sincere as he gave her food and expected nothing in return. He wrapped his arms around her without hesitation, protecting her from everything she’d been running from.

He was warm.

He was comforting.

He was everything.

And when he would promise to take care of her, to never leave her.

She would believe him.